Welcome to the Cartel

The scheduled festivities went ahead in the banquet hall of House Thalen.

The atmosphere at the outset was sour. Naturally so — nobody in attendance was in a good mood.

Until now, House Thalen had been their roof, their sunlight, the great lake that supplied their drinking water. And that house had been trampled by a single man from a central noble family.

The vassals felt shock, fear, disappointment, a crawling displeasure. Some of the nobles, their heads too crowded with ugly thoughts, simply wished the banquet would end as quickly as possible.

Every gaze found Count Thalen. He would be the most shaken of them all, so surely this banquet would wrap up soon — that was the assumption.

But the banquet had an unexpected variable.

"Haha, this wine is excellent!"

Ereb raised his glass and laughed with genuine-looking satisfaction, and Count Thalen lifted the corners of his mouth in a sour little smile.

"Uh — uh, to your taste, is it?"

"Of course. Today Your Excellency has given me quite the surprise."

"What do you mean?"

"I never imagined I'd be drinking sparkling wine this refined out here. Your discernment is truly exceptional, isn't it?"

What's with this guy?

Barely an hour ago, this was the man who had climbed onto a shattered oak table and tap-danced a sonata of madness. And now his tongue was as slick as if it had been gilded — of course it was baffling.

But as the barrage of praise kept coming, Count Thalen's cheeks began to twitch.

"Ah… is that so? Well, I drink it often enough that it doesn't particularly move me…"

No! This is expensive wine I bid on all the way at the capital auction house! Please praise me more!

"This appetizer bread as well. The softness is like lamb's wool. Superb. It seems House Thalen has employed a baker of remarkable skill."

"Haha, he's a fellow who's worked for our house quite a long time. I've been eating it since I was a child, so I never thought to rate it so highly."

I practically kidnapped ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the guy with money last year. He worked under that gourmet Marquis Aberdeen for ten years! As expected, a central noble knows the real thing when he sees it!

Count Thalen had always yearned for the culture of the central nobility. There was no world in which he would dislike having his refinement and taste praised. He was experiencing a satisfaction comparable to orgasm.

If one were to name the central noble houses of the Asiris Kingdom, House Ahental might be debatable for the top five — but it would certainly rank within the top ten. How many high-class banquets must the heir of that house have attended? And that man was now praising the cuisine of his banquet.

Yes. My choice wasn't wrong. If I enjoy the same things the central ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠nobles enjoy, I'll be able to play in the big leagues someday too.

His eldest son often brought up the debt and criticized his extravagance. Now he would have a rebuttal.

With Ereb's continued praise sending his cheeks practically to heaven, Count Thalen was in an excellent mood. The faces of the nobles lingering in the corners gradually brightened as well. After all, the man who had hosted the banquet was enjoying himself — they ought to match the atmosphere, shouldn't they?

Before long, Ereb and Count Thalen were surrounded.

That was when Ereb's social prowess, honed in high society, came into play.

It was unexpected. An arrogant man with everything — the kind of wastrel who, once his eyes roll back, sees nothing at all — is the type everyone hates. But ironically, when such a man evaluates you highly and offers praise, the effect is doubled.

As Ereb lifted up the surrounding nobles one by one with a word apiece, the atmosphere quickly caught fire. People are foolish that way. Rather than someone who always flatters them, when a hostile person treats them well just once, they fall for it completely.

Hahaha!

In an instant, Ereb stood at the center of the frontier nobles. When he said a word, the people around him exploded with laughter. He had to keep his mouth running nonstop until he slipped out onto the terrace under the pretext of catching his breath.

"Whew. That's exhausting."

"You looked like you were enjoying yourself. Was it hard? I thought you were a born noble."

"This is all because you made me do it, you bastard. I told you we should just leave — banquet or not."

Messi was already on the terrace. He wasn't used to gatherings like this, and on top of that, the aversion to him being an other-race meant no one approached him readily.

"Think like a noble. You displayed an overwhelming difference in power — if you don't enjoy it and just walk away, people get suspicious. A leader is recognized as the strong one when he leisurely tears into the meat his subordinates bring him."

This young master only knew how to tighten the screws, not how to loosen them. He needed to be taught. Otherwise, another incident like the one with Loud would happen all over again.

"Kh. Already quoting the nature of nobility at me… Still, you're the only bastard who'd make his master serve drinks."

For all his grumbling, Ereb had worked the room like a salesman. His throat burning, he downed his drink.

"Well, all I had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to do was talk about a tasteless, overpriced sparkling wine like Delcapone as if it were a legendary vintage… Heh. He was easy to handle."

"…It's not because Count Thalen is some empty-headed fool."

"Hm. Then?"

"Look over there."

Where Messi pointed was the banquet hall. Surrounded by dozens of nobles, basking in their adulation, Count Thalen was drunk on his own authority.

"To make those dozens of nobles look only at him, there are roughly two methods. One is to display his own power. The other is to advertise a close association with someone powerful."

"Haha, so because I raised hell today, the first option went out the window… and the Count chose the second?"

"If you've been exposed as not being a lion, you at least have to pretend you're close with one."

As if on cue, Count Thalen was looking around desperately for his lion. He spotted the two on the terrace and walked over.

"Aren't you taking in the air a bit too long? Young Master, they're making a fuss telling me to bring you back. A real fuss. Haha!"

"Oh dear… too much popularity isn't good either."

Ereb turned his head so only Messi could see, silently mouthed a roar — Kraang! — and then strolled off at his leisure. Had he just imitated a lion?

Like a fish in water.

Yes. There were people suited to that kind of gathering. The man who had suffered like a dog in the Forest of Resentment and the noble Ereb of the banquet hall were, one had to say, different people.

"Should I address you as Prince?"

"Please just call me by my name, comfortably."

When Messi answered politely, Count Thalen smiled as if pleased.

"Hmm. Sir Messi is a man who knows proper courtesy. In any case, now that you've come out into the human world, you'll need to grow accustomed to human customs."

"I have no reason to refuse."

"Do you know why House Ahental is treating you as an honored guest?"

"…?"

Had Young Master Ereb even set up that kind of cover story? When Messi tilted his head, the Count's expression said he'd expected as much.

"They didn't tell you, I see. House Ahental has a youngest child who's unwell. The young master's little sister. They seem to be pinning their hopes on Sir Messi's healing abilities."

This was the first he'd heard of it. He'd never even heard there was a younger sister, let alone that she was ill.

"They've brought in quite a few priests to try to heal her, but I hear it hasn't gone well. Seeing them reach even for an other-race's abilities, they must be rather desperate."

In the end, it was a hypothesis. Given Young Master Ereb's personality, he wouldn't have blabbed about family affairs. The Count seemed to have taken a fact he'd personally overheard and attached Messi to it.

"Is that so. Thank you for the kind words."

"Ah, well. I'm not saying this for nothing. If there's no improvement, you'll be driven out immediately, and you'll have nowhere to go. In that case, come to our house. We have plenty of trauma patients here."

Monsters appeared frequently, so that was inevitable. He had no intention of going — but when he nodded, the Count was satisfied. He returned to his original place.

"Sir Messi."

As if he'd been waiting, someone spoke up immediately.

"First Young Master Talmud."

"I hope my father didn't say anything improper?"

"Not at all. He even extended an invitation, actually."

"Ah. It must be because of Sir Messi's healing abilities."

After mixing a few light remarks, Talmud seemed ready to get to the point, pulling something from his pocket.

"What's that?"

"Our family's crest."

Talmud personally pinned the small crest of House Thalen onto Messi's leather garment.

"With this, you won't suffer any more indignities from people like the gatekeepers in the daytime."

"Ah… thank you."

An unexpected kindness. Rather than personally declaring that one had received a house's guarantee, pinning on this hard-to-obtain Thalen Family Crest would ensure that no one would dare look down on him for being an other-race. It had been created precisely to announce, without words, that one was under that house's protection.

With the two nobles' identity guarantees, the documentary identity problem was solved. With the Thalen Family Crest, the visual one was solved as well.

"I understand family crests aren't something given out casually."

"I've received a favor, so I must repay it."

A favor. Messi swept his gaze once ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠across the banquet hall, then looked back at Talmud.

"Your younger brother isn't here, I see?"

"Haha. You're sharp. I got quite an earful from Father this time."

He'd suspected as much. The more one understood House Thalen's situation, the more unthinkable — the more impossible — it was that they would pick a fight with House Ahental's second young master.

And yet it actually happened…

Someone must have stoked Count Thalen's anger, and it would have been someone very close. Talmud didn't seem that stupid, and Taliss, who had guided them, was a fitting candidate.

"You seem to have scored quite a few points from this incident. Enough to call it a 'favor'…"

"Haha. Actually, it was the vassals more than Father who looked on me quite favorably."

That would be it. The rumor that Taliss had been grabbed by the collar and shaken by Ereb had spread far and wide. They said his eyes had been brimming with tears, on the verge of spilling over. Conversely, Talmud had resolved the matter wisely and left a deep impression on the vassals.

This place, too, seemed to have brothers competing quite fiercely — just like House Ahental.

Hmm. Thinking about it that way, this crest didn't seem like it was given purely out of gratitude either.

"…You want something, don't you."

"Oh dear. I was hoping you wouldn't think that."

He'd already pinned it to his chest, so even if the deal didn't go through, he wouldn't take it back. That meant there was some genuine gratitude in the giving as well.

"With today's incident as a catalyst, the vassals who were ignorant of the central nobility will have come to see House Ahental clearly."

That was likely true. A second young master who hadn't even received the headship had come and done insane things, and not a single person in House Thalen had been able to stop him. It had been a good lesson for Messi as well. At the very least, he now knew what kind of house he would be joining.

The rural nobles here would have felt in their bones just how immense the power of House Ahental — or more precisely, of the central nobility — truly was. Reading the room, they'd want to get close to this side as well.

"What's more, House Ahental keeps extending the repayment of the debt they lent Father while increasing the interest. They're gradually tightening the noose. Their influence will only grow."

"You're not asking me to make that debt disappear or anything, I assume?"

"Surely not. However… when Ahental tries to make use of House Thalen in the future, wouldn't it be better if someone easier to talk to were sitting as the head of the house? That's what I'm saying."

"And that someone easier to talk to is the Talmud standing right in front of me."

With a full, beaming smile, Talmud laughed. A silent affirmation that Messi was correct.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you seem close with the young master."

"We've known each other barely more than a fortnight."

"For that, the young master seemed to trust Sir Messi a great deal."

That Ereb? That's because he hadn't seen what Ereb was like ten days ago.

"I've been eating nothing but leftover glances since Taliss was born, so I'm rather accurate at reading these things. You can trust me on that."

When Messi smiled awkwardly, Talmud, misunderstanding, hurriedly walked back his words.

"I didn't mean to put any burden on you. Simply, when Ahental tries to use House Thalen's debt in the future, if you'd just give the young master a word of notice, I'd be satisfied."

So… he'd shown kindness to an other-race near the young master for the sake of a small possibility in the distant future.

Wasn't that too dramatic a setup?

Messi's intuition was telling him.

This man… he's figured out that I'm neither a prince of the other-races nor an honored guest of House Ahental.

He'd said with his own mouth that he was quick on the uptake, so there was no doubt. Then what did Talmud think was the reason Young Master Ereb was keeping Messi around? At the very least, it wasn't a trivial role — which is why he'd even arranged the identity guarantee.

The reason he knows and still keeps his mouth shut… is because he doesn't want to get on the young master's bad side, and because he judged it wouldn't help him achieve his own goals at all.

In short, he was a man with good instincts, who knew his place, and who conducted himself properly.

Someone like this… it would be fine to give him a little room.

"Very well. If that's all… there's no reason I couldn't make a request of the young master, is there?"

He deliberately emphasized the word request, and color bloomed across Talmud's face. He knew his guess had been correct.

When Talmud returned, looking satisfied, Messi remained alone and smiled.

If we make our person the head of House Thalen, there will come a day when it helps in the struggle against the First Young Master as well. House Thalen has no choice but to be in the same boat as us anyway.

Messi recalled the identity guarantee stamped with House Thalen's seal. He would become Young Master Ereb's confidant. He had no intention of revealing it for now, but the First Young Master would catch on someday.

And the house that had co-guaranteed that confidant, together with Ereb, was House Thalen?

Once he knew that, what would the First Young Master think? Naturally he'd conclude they were in the same boat, and he'd treat House Thalen as an enemy.

Ereb probably hadn't gone so far as to include Count Thalen in his identity guarantee with that in mind — but in time it would become a butterfly effect that would swallow House Thalen whole.

Count Thalen, who didn't know this situation, and Talmud, were currently full of themselves thinking they could use Ereb. They'd realize soon enough.

Ah. We've been swept up in a typhoon!

And then they would smile broadly and extend their hands.

In a dark corner of House Thalen's castle, a figure appeared.

Bettis Huang — a member of the Red Fox Mercenary Group, and the ninth son of the Huang Merchant Group, whose life Messi had saved.

He was slowly inscribing something invisible upon the wall.

It was the first moment Messi's name was mentioned to the world.